"I can read between the lines just fine, Admiral," notes President N'Gir as she drops a padd on the table between you. The Presidential office has been cleared out, leaving just the two of you, the two most influential people out of almost a hundred billion across the Federation. Between the two of you, the wood-panelled room seems so paradoxically stifling, crushing down around you with every square foot of emptiness around you. "This," she says, finger jabbing at the padd, "This is your doing."
The comfortable armchair is no captain's chair, the President no Bird of Prey.
You tilt your head slightly. "May I ask what this is, Madam President?"
The President smiles sourly. "Councillor Sadek is doing the numbers. We thought we had them. Something changed."
"I believe the Hawks were drumming-"
"Don't you skulk with me, Admiral," snaps Arsharra N'Gir. Her eyes are flashing fire, her finger jabs out at you this time. "Look around, it's just you and me here. If you want to play hardball, then stand up and play."
Alright then.
You take in a breath, shedding the amiability. Old instincts come to the fore, the spine straightens, the brows furrow. This woman is the vested voice of the Federation people, the guardian of the constitution you swear to uphold, the one who holds the reins of the charter that guides your life. But you will speak truth and may the devil take the hindmost.
"The Amarkian Hawks came to speak to me, and together we rallied the votes to block," you reply. Suffice to say there is no ripple of shock from the person opposite you.